


We’ll Call it Negotiating

by bricoleur10



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Birthday, Established Relationship, Implied AU, Just a little fluffy, M/M, relationship conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:31:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bricoleur10/pseuds/bricoleur10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Season 3, sometime after Ethan. Justin tells Brian exactly what he wants for his birthday, and their future. Implies a happier AU ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We’ll Call it Negotiating

“So, I've decided how this is gonna work.” Justin’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, carding his fingers through Brian’s hair – a distinctly tender gesture he can only really get away with early in the morning. 

“What’s that, Sunshine?” Brian inquires, voice sleep-rough and distracted. He’s leaning into Justin’s touch, like he always does. But that’s one of those things they don’t acknowledge. 

“My birthday.” 

Brian tenses, which Justin hates, but he also doesn't pull away. 

Huh. Progress. 

“Right.” He tries for nonchalant. Justin would even say that he’s pulling it off, if he didn't know him so well. “You have one of those soon, right?” 

“Yeah.” Justin nods. “And I've decided that we don’t have to do anything.” 

Brian’s eyes widen a little. “Oh really?”

“Yup,” Justin nods. He makes every effort to sound casual-yet-confident. “We decided to try this again, right? You and Me? Really try this time?” 

He already knows the answer, but something in his gut loosens when Brian nods all the same. Old fears – they've got nothing on old habits. 

“Right,” Justin nods again. “Well, these things, things like what we have. Y’know, the sort thing where we live together and fuck each other and hang out together but don’t actually call it anything in any official sort of way because it freaks one of us out too much. Those things?” 

Brian’s biting his lip trying not to grin. “Yeah?” 

“Well, I've heard that things like that are all about compromise.” He takes a deep breath, let’s his hand trail down from Brian’s hair to the side of his neck, and then farther down his chest. “So that’s what we’re gonna do.” 

Brian studies him carefully for a few moments. If he were anyone else he probably would have sat up by now, but Brian is nothing if not obnoxiously self-assured. “Is this about you topping more?” 

Justin grins widely. “It could be.”

The older man groans. “My ass still hurts from last week.” 

“’Cause you don’t use it enough,” he scrapes a fingernail lightly over Brian’s abs. He gets a sharp hiss for his efforts. 

“Justin…”

It’d be so easy to get off track right now. Decidedly, he focuses his attention away from the growing interest his dick has in making Brian make that noise again. 

“No, listen,” he takes his hand away, and holds Brian’s gaze until he knows for sure his attention is all there. “My twentieth birthday? We don’t have to do anything.” 

“You mentioned that.” 

“Right,” Justin goes on. “Well, that’s what I decided. I can’t control what anybody else might wanna do, and I already know that I’m obligated to at least lunch with my mother. But you, you don’t have to do anything.” 

“Really?” Brian obviously isn't buying this.

“Really.” Justin insists. “I’m going to do the good-son thing with my mom.” He pauses. “Shit, I hate that phrase. Good son. Did you ever see that movie?” Brian shakes his head, expression openly perplexed. “McCauley Caulkin makes a convincing sociopath. Anyway,” he suppresses the desire to get lost in a tangent. “That’s it. I plan on going to Babylon that night, drinking, getting blown in the backroom, and fucking the rest of the night away. Your level of involvement in those plans is completely up to you. I am hereby officially relieving you of any sense of obligation you may, or may not have felt concerning that particular day. No expectations, no gifts. I don’t even have to see you if you don’t want.”

“Just like that?” Brian quirks an eyebrow.

“Just like that.” 

“Far be it for me to push my luck on an issue such as this,” he says carefully, “but I’m failing to see the compromise in that neatly presented little plan of yours.” 

Justin grins widely. Brian Kinney so gives a shit. 

“The compromise is that for my twenty-first birthday you’re taking me to Las Vegas,” the ad-exec’s eyes widen almost comically, and he finally, finally makes a move to sit up slightly. Justin continues talking before a window wide enough for objection opens. “And we’re going to stay in a ridiculously expensive hotel room, and I’m going to get embarrassingly hammered, and we’re going to play blackjack until they kick us out and then we’re going to fuck all night in our giant, luxurious bed, which you’ll be paying for. Obviously. And when I wake up in the morning totally hungover you will be nice and order room service and not make fun of me.” 

With a resounding exhale, Justin nods firmly. “Meeting those conditions will also negate your obligation for the two following birthdays. I've got plans for twenty-four, too, but I don’t wanna do that thing where I say too much and you get scared, only you won’t call it that, and push me off a metaphorical cliff.” 

Brian’s staring at him with this expression that Justin can’t quite read. It’s something between shock, adoration, and intense irritation. 

“So,” he finally starts. Justin refuses to let them leave the bed until this matter is settled. “You just…figured all that out, then? Decided…” 

“That we’re going to be together next year? And the years after that?” He guesses. “Yes, I did.” 

“And what if we’re not?” 

Brian might just be asking to be difficult, to challenge Justin’s firmly constructed view of the world – like he’s been doing since the day they met – and he doesn't really think that Brian has that little faith in their budding…whatever he’s calling it in his head. But he does know that Brian is, and always will be, a realist (pessimist) and, more importantly, that regardless of any of that, his answer to this question is uncomprehendingly important. 

Luckily, he’s already thought about it, and he knows exactly what he wants to say. 

“If we’re not…” he starts slowly, letting Brian see in his eyes that he knows exactly what these words mean. “Then I still fully expect you to take me to Las Vegas on my twenty-first birthday.” He hesitates for only a heartbeat before adding the next part. “And Paris on my twenty-fourth.” 

Brian rolls his lips inwards and stares unblinkingly at Justin for a long time. He has a feeling that this is one of those moments they’re both going to remember for the rest of their lives. 

“Well,” Brian finally breaks the spell between them, and Justin is a little sad to feel it go, but he’s also somewhat relieved. The intensity that currents between them sometimes can be overwhelming. “I guess if you have it all figured out…” 

Justin grins widely. He knows that tone of voice. “See?” He nudges Brian’s thigh with his knee. “This is what’s great about being in one of these things that we don’t put labels on. Another person can deal with all the shit you don’t wanna deal with.” 

“Like a partner.” 

Justin’s breath catches. 

Even after all this time, all they've done to each other, all they've been through…Brian can still make his heart stop. 

“I…” his speech definitely hadn't included this possible variable. 

Brian’s not looking away. He never does. 

“Yeah.” Justin exhales the word eventually. “Yeah. Like a partner.” 

“Okay.” Brian’s hand is on his hip, palm on the jutting bone, fingers tracing lightly just under his rib cage. 

“Okay?” He’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. 

He gets his answer in Brian’s slow nod, his shy smile, and the genuine happiness in his eyes. “Okay.” 

It’s funny, how the words can mean nothing and everything at the same time. How he’s learned that he could call it anything, call it nothing it all, and still be content; yet hearing what he’s always craved to hear, what he used to think he needed to hear…well, that definitely doesn't mean nothing. 

But, he thinks as he leans in to kiss Brian – something his body’s doing before his brain gets the chance to cast a vote on the matter – it also doesn't mean everything. 

He’ll whisper the word from time to time – while they’re fucking, during quiet moments around the loft, a few times at Woody’s and Babylon and the diner when no one else can hear. “Partner” For weeks it’s amazing to hear, and Brian’s dick always reacts the same way. Which makes Justin’s react similarly, and before long they've got some learned behavior thing going on. Operant conditioning, or whatever the fuck. 

After the novelty wears off, it just becomes habit. Later, it becomes a comfort. Eventually it’s something they can’t live without. 

In fact, Brian’s first words after Justin accepts his marriage proposal are, “But I’m still gonna call you my partner.” 

Justin doesn't know that yet. He doesn't need to. He knows that he’ll be in Las Vegas a year from next Wednesday. He knows he’ll see the Eiffel Tower the day he turns twenty-four. 

That’s all he needs.


End file.
